


The Grievance Method of Dave Strider

by geekyclean



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Grief/Mourning, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-10
Updated: 2012-03-10
Packaged: 2017-11-01 17:29:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/359438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekyclean/pseuds/geekyclean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John died before Dave.<br/>What will he do?<br/>His rock is gone, his solid ground is dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Grievance Method of Dave Strider

**Author's Note:**

> This is from a headcanon pyrates.tumblr.com wrote!  
> I'm quite proud of this one, I love sadstuck, so...   
> Here you go! Constructive criticism is always welcome.

The staff was cleaning up the fallen petals, the discarded pamphlets, the memories of the funeral. Dave sat in a pew, completely still. He was still in shock from John's sudden passing.

Where was his rock?

Where was his solid ground, his stable relationship, his John?

He slowly got up, his joints stiff. He had sat in the same position for the last four hours.

Shuffling towards the front of the room, he decided to get one last look at the urn at the front. John's dad had wanted to cremate his son, hoping to scatter the ashed on the wind.

The wind that John used to control.

He reached out and touched a finger to the cool surface, hoping to feel some last shred of John.

John, John, John. He was all Dave could think about now.

Dave moved away from the urn, towards the door. He walked in the direction of the parking lot, and found his car. He fumbled with his keys, his fingers numb. He finally got in the car and drove off.

 

 

By the time he got home, he had gone from the numbing chill of denial to the heat of passionate anger.

Why did this happen?

Why did it have to be John?

Why, why, why?

Everything had been perfect for so long. He had John, he had a home, he had his friends.

He had everything he had wanted.

He looked at his computer, seeing a notification. He pulled out the chair and sat down.

\---

GG: dave!

GG: daaaaaave!!

GG: are you there?

TG: calm down harley

TG: i'm fucking here

TG: what do you want

GG: ...i think you should talk to me and rose.

GG: you don't sound like you're in a good place.

TG: what did you expect

TG: john fucking died

TG: you know how people have funerals

TG: that just happened

TG: you were there idiot

GG: look, i miss him just as much as you do

GG: so does rose.

GG: we just all need to help each other move on!

TG: look harley

TG: i don't need this shit right now

TG: bye

GG: no dave wait!! please!

\---

Dave sat up, anger roiling in his stomach. He would refuse to talk to anyone. He had to, they just reminded him of John.

He walked to his bedroom, _their_ bedroom, and sat on the bed.

He looked around, at all the reminders of John.

His clothes on the floor.

His smell on the pillow.

Hell, his smell everywhere.

Dave stood up and went to the closet. He rifled through the hangers, each article of clothing sending wave after wave of John-smell, mingled with Dave's own.

He picked out a sweater, and takes it off the hanger. It has several holes, and has seen many uses.

Dave stripped down to his boxers, and clambered into bed.

Exhausted, he curled up around the sweater, inhaling the aroma.

It was like his drug.

 

 

He awoke to see Rose, surprisingly enough.

Rolling over, Dave curled around the sweater tighter. He refused to speak a word.

“Dave, get up this instant. Lazying around is bad for your health, especially after such a traumatic experience.”

He shook his head, not moving an inch.

“David Strider, get up _now!_ ”

No.

He shook his head again, slower.

“Fine. Whatever. I'll come back later or something, but you know what? You need to take control of yourself. You're a grown man.”

Dave shifted, and Rose walked out.

He stayed in bed all day, and for the next several days began losing more and more weight. He refused to get out of the bed, to uncurl from the sweater. It was his lifeline. He told himself he'd get up the next day, the next day, the day after that...

He only got up to go to the bathroom, and once to get another sweater after his nose soaked up all of John's smell from the first one.

Rose came back once, but was unable to get Dave out of bed. She was able to force some food and water down his throat, but left soon after. She told him it was his responsibility to get up when he was able to, and he should listen to his body.

Dave didn't get up for a long time.

Staying in bed with a sweater was how he mourned, since he didn't have John around to talk to anymore.


End file.
